Lyria barely slept.
Every time her eyes drifted closed, she saw Kaelith's face — that impossible beauty framed by darkness, eyes red as blood, voice dripping with promise and threat. She turned restlessly on the silken sheets, the smell of roses and iron still clinging to her skin where Kaelith had touched her.
No. She refused to be drawn in by that monster's power.
But what choice did she have?
A dull knock rattled the door before it opened without permission. A guard stepped in, helmet polished, eyes hidden behind steel. "The mistress commands you," he barked, then stood aside.
Lyria's mouth went dry. The "mistress." That word sent a shiver through her, part terror, part — and she loathed this — anticipation.
She swung her legs over the bed, the cold floor shocking her back to focus. Chains rattled at her wrists as she stood. She would not give Kaelith the satisfaction of seeing fear.
Down another set of stairs, past a dozen runes glowing sickly purple, the guard led her into what looked like a ceremonial hall. Statues of obsidian witches loomed in every corner, twisted into poses of triumph and agony.
And at the end of it all — Kaelith, seated on a throne of black crystal, looking for all the world like a goddess of death.
Lyria swallowed hard as Kaelith's gaze pinned her in place.
"Come closer," Kaelith commanded softly.
Lyria's steps faltered, but she moved forward, chin lifted. She would not bow.
Kaelith studied her, lips curling faintly in amusement. "Still so defiant," she murmured. "I could break you, healer. But that would be…boring."
Lyria clenched her fists. "Why keep me here? What do you want?"
Kaelith rose, walking with a grace so lethal it made the air around her shimmer with power. "I want what your precious Moon Clan denies me," she said, voice deepening, vibrating with magic. "Your light."
Lyria took a step back. "I will never help you," she snapped, heart pounding.
Kaelith reached out, faster than any normal human could move, fingers curling around Lyria's throat. Not squeezing — just holding, an icy reminder of who held the power.
"Oh, but you will," Kaelith whispered, so close her lips brushed Lyria's cheek. "Not because I will force you. But because you will want to."
Lyria shivered. "Never."
Kaelith laughed — the kind of laugh that stripped away all certainty. Then she released her and stepped back, pacing like a panther.
"You will heal me," she said calmly. "You will share your gift. And in return, I will spare your people from utter destruction."
Lyria's stomach dropped. "You're going to blackmail me?"
Kaelith's eyes burned. "I offer you a choice," she purred. "Your light — for their lives."
A rush of rage rose in Lyria's chest. She lunged forward, chains clattering, trying to slap the witch across her perfect face. Kaelith caught her wrist in a blur, twisted it behind her, forcing Lyria's body against hers, chest to chest.
The contact was electric. Heat shot through Lyria's stomach in a wave she tried to deny.
"Such spirit," Kaelith whispered, bending closer. "I almost wish I could tame you gently."
Lyria struggled, hating how her body reacted to Kaelith's strength, to the scent of roses, to the darkness curling around them.
Kaelith leaned in until their lips almost touched, breath mingling. "Say yes, healer," she murmured, voice velvet-dark. "Let me have your light."
Lyria swallowed hard. "I… I can't," she whispered, barely finding her voice.
Kaelith's smile was slow, wicked, devastating. "Then I will take it," she promised, letting Lyria go so suddenly she nearly fell.
---
Kaelith turned away, sweeping toward a table piled with spell ingredients — dried roots, black candles, glimmering shards of moonstone.
"Bind her," Kaelith ordered the guards.
Lyria's heart leapt. "What—"
Heavy ropes of enchanted thread wrapped around her arms, pinning them behind her back. She tried to fight, but the threads sapped her magic, leaving her trembling and weak.
Kaelith lifted a small obsidian dagger from the table, letting its blade glint in the light. "If you will not give it," she said, voice dangerously calm, "then I must take it. One way or another."
Lyria's knees threatened to give way. The air felt too thin. She couldn't breathe.
Kaelith approached again, dagger held almost delicately. Her other hand cupped Lyria's cheek in a gentle, possessive way that twisted her heart painfully.
"Do not fear me," Kaelith whispered, eyes softening — for just a moment, so quick Lyria wondered if she imagined it. "Fear what I must become without you."
The dagger kissed her skin, cold as death, tracing the curve of her jaw. Lyria bit her lip to keep from crying out.
Kaelith studied her like a precious gem, thumb brushing her lips again. "Last chance, healer," she breathed. "Will you give me your light willingly?"
Lyria's mind spun, torn between horror and a terrifying, aching desire. There was something in Kaelith's gaze — a wound, a hunger — that made her chest twist.
Maybe… just maybe, she could use that weakness against her.
She took a deep breath, met Kaelith's burning eyes, and whispered, "Teach me what you want. And maybe… I will share my power."
Kaelith froze. A smile, slow and predatory, spread across her lips.
"Clever girl," she purred. "Very clever."
She tossed the dagger aside, letting it clatter to the stones, and drew Lyria closer until their bodies touched completely. Her lips hovered so close Lyria could feel every breath.
"Then we begin… tonight."
---
That night, in Kaelith's darkened bedchamber, Lyria lay bound by soft enchanted silk, magic humming around her skin. Kaelith knelt beside her, one hand stroking her hair almost lovingly.
"You will learn to want me," Kaelith whispered, voice velvet and dangerous, "as much as I want you."
Lyria tried to look away, but Kaelith cupped her chin, forcing their eyes to meet.
"You are mine, healer," Kaelith said. "Body, mind, and magic."
And then she kissed her — hard, claiming, a rush of heat so intense Lyria thought her heart might explode.
She gasped, the taste of Kaelith's lips a firestorm she had no hope of resisting.
Tears threatened to spill as the witch deepened the kiss, hands roaming possessively, magic crackling where their skin met.
Lyria's mind screamed to fight, to resist, but her body — her treacherous, lonely body — answered the call with a shuddering sigh.
Kaelith pulled away, breathless, eyes burning like red stars.
"Tomorrow," she promised in a voice dark with hunger, "you will give me everything."
And in the silence, Lyria realized with horror that a tiny part of her already wanted to.